


Miles To Go

by raendown



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pity Him And Mourn For His Sanity, Road Trip, Tobirama Regrets Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 03:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14179212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: How much madness could three idiots pack in to one road trip, anyway?





	Miles To Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thetoxicstrawberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetoxicstrawberry/gifts).



Pretty much anyone who knew him for more than five minutes could have said with absolute confidence that Senju Tobirama was not a cars and trucks and inflated testosterone kind of guy. And they would have been right. He didn’t see the allure in worshiping two tons of metal and plastic, the only true function of which was to transport a limited number of people from point A to point B (often with several extra stops along the way if your passenger was an annoying older brother with a penchant for snacks). Tobirama saw much more logic in giving his heart to science and trying to understand the universe that housed them.

Which is why he found it strange just how attached he’d gotten to the machine humming under his fingertips as it idled in the driveway of his brother’s home. Even after half a decade of owning it he still sometimes forgot the model of his own car and asking him what year it was had yet to receive a solid answer. He was sure it was a Chevy, although that meant very little to him. What he did know was the calming deep blue color of it and the sun-warm metal of the hood, the grip of the steering wheel, the feeling of wheels rolling on the tarmac and gliding smoothly through every turn. Getting attached to a hunk of metal went against everything he stood for and yet here he was, patting the side of his vehicle like a proud father, the shadow of a smile on his lips.

“Ready to roll?” he murmured under his breath. His car did nothing but hum pleasantly in return but that was really all the answer he needed. Taking a deep breath, Tobirama glanced up to see the front door of the house was open but still no sign of the two idiots he was waiting for. “Anija! Get a fucking move on; you’re wasting all my gas!”

Not ten seconds later Hashirama quite literally tripped out the front door, stumbling under the weight of his massive duffle bag, only avoiding an impolite introduction to the ground by the forward momentum which carried him until he could catch a hand on the trunk of the waiting car. Gracefully exiting after him came Madara, his outfit as impeccable as always and his hair in its typical rat’s nest. Tobirama had opinions on a man who planned to start the first leg of a road trip wearing a two piece suit but he judiciously kept those opinions to himself.

Popping the trunk with the button on his key fob, Tobirama smirked viciously as Hashirama squawked in surprise. In went the duffle bag, followed by Madara’s worryingly oversized suitcase, then Hashirama set both hands on his hips and beamed at the two of them.

“Is that everything?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tobirama answered decisively.

“Are you sure? Did we get–”

“ _Yes_.” Not for nothing was Tobirama given the dubious honor of planning this little trip. How he’d gotten roped in to coming along was still a mystery but he was fairly sure it had something to do with his absolute faith in Hashirama’s ability to get lost no matter where he was going.

Sidling much too casually up the driveway in the direction of the passenger seat, Madara frowned. “I forgot to buy snacks for the road. Damn it.”

“There’s a cooler in the backseat already,” Tobirama assured him. Unlike the other two, he’d tried his best to think of everything they could possibly need. He was well aware of his brother’s gluttonous stomach and thus had planned for it. Several kinds of drinks were all loaded in to the old camping cooler along with at least seven different kinds of snacks, hopefully enough to satisfy whichever craving struck Hashirama at any random time.

“Cool!” Sighing in satisfaction that they were finally about to head out, Hashirama chirped, “Can I drive?”

“No.”

“Then I call shotgun!”

“Also nope,” Madara called, lunging for the front seat and wrenching the door open to throw himself inside before Hashirama could run around and pull him back out.

Sliding in to the driver’s seat, Tobirama closed his eyes in despair as they began bickering, Madara rolling down the tinted window just so he could stick his tongue out at the man left outside. Ideally they would have waited at _least_ until everyone was in the car before the childish antics began but realistically that was a bit too much to hope for. Tobirama cut his losses and called it a success that it only took four minutes and twenty-seven seconds to convince Hashirama to fold his massively tall frame in to the back.

Only after confirmed that everyone was buckled in did Tobirama throw the car in drive and take his foot off the brake, allowing the slope of the driveway to roll the car forward and begin the first road trip he’d taken part in since their mother passed away in childbirth when he was young.

Although his two companions were still bickering Tobirama had many years of practice tuning the both of them out and he was therefore granted nearly fifteen solid minutes of his version of peace before the first and most predictable war began.

“We should turn on the radio.” Madara’s fingers were reaching for the dials even as he spoke, only to recoil when Tobirama smacked them away without looking.

“My car, my radio,” he announced. Blatantly ignoring this new rule, Hashirama peeked his head forward.

“I have my iPod in my pocket; we could listen to the new songs I downloaded!”

Madara scoffed. “Your music makes my ears bleed. Who listens to country anymore?” Both men up front rolled their eyes as Hashirama drooped sadly and pouted, one hand clutched over his heart.

“I think the lyrics are really pretty. Don’t you like love songs, Madara?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re obviously listening to something better than country.”

“What we listen to is not your say,” Tobirama reminded them both. “My car, my radio. Did I not just say that? If you absolutely must have music you can use the preset stations until we get out of range.”

Harrumphing and grumbling, Madara slowly reached out his fingers again as though he feared getting smacked a second time. Keeping his eyes on the road and doing his best to pretend that he was only imagining the day he’d agreed to accompany these two, Tobirama sighed at the stupidity of his own past self. Did he not even care about his own sanity? Because it was certainly going to be a lost cause long before they all returned home.

Flipping through the stations keyed to the preset buttons revealed mostly rock channels and one pop station which he generally used for keeping Touka’s infamous temper at bay whenever she rode with him. Predictably, that single pop station was the one Madara chose to listen to. Even more predictably, both Madara and Hashirama seemed to know the words to all the songs that came on, belting the lyrics as loud as they could like tortured, off-key cats. Tobirama felt his eyebrow twitching after two songs. His mouth began to pinch after four. As they turned on to the road that would take them out of town and lead them to the freeway, he suddenly realized that his shoulders were scrunched up around his neck like a chiropractor’s nightmare.

“Are you going to sing _every_ song?” he asked. Madara shot him an unrepentant grin that twisted his stomach in a familiar way.

“Why, is it annoying you?” Lifting one eyebrow, the idiot made a point of singing even louder, butchering the chorus of some poor hardworking artist who surely never intended for their music to be used in such torturous ways.

He could have let them have their fun. He _could_ have. But Tobirama had never been known for having an abundance of mercy for these two; he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt when he snapped one hand out to punch the first preset button, flipping over to a station which happened to be playing one of his own favorite songs. Were he the singing sort, he actually did know all the words. Luckily for the ears of the rest of the world he wasn’t nearly as inclined to do so as his sibling was.

Madara took exception to him changing the station. Big surprise there.

“Don’t think I don’t see that hand, Uchiha. I am fully prepared to pull over and kick you out.”

“I liked the other music better!”

“And I don’t care. Listening to your caterwauling is likely to make me go deaf – and if I go deaf then believe me when I say I’ll find a way to make sure you do too.”

“Hmph.” Madara mulled that over in his mind for a few seconds before scowling deeply. “Let me change it back.”

Tobirama had the time to open his mouth before Hashirama poked his head up from the back and said, “Yeah! Change it back! Maddy’s right, that was a good song!”

While Madara was busy choking in indignation and thwacking the top of Hashirama’s head for using such an embarrassing diminutive of his name, Tobirama took a moment to pray to the patron saint of road trips, asking for just a little extra patience. Hopefully someone up there was listening.

“I’m changing it back,” Madara announced.

“Yay!” Hashirama drummed his hands on the back edge of the center console in excitement.

“Fuck off!” Irritated at having his authority questioned in his own car, Tobirama shoved Madara’s encroaching fingers away. “I said no!”

“Mutiny!” Madara cried, catching his hand in a tight grip and leaning forward to reach for the radio with the other.

Tobirama made a wordless cry of betrayal even as he felt one corner of his mouth spasm in the beginning of a smile. Mutiny indeed. Still, he had an image to maintain and a radio to defend so he did his best to shove back and maneuver his trapped hand to block the incoming one. He had a surprising amount of success despite the action resulting in several buttons being mashed at once, sending the radio cycling through two different presents before the seek button began frantically searching for whatever was closest.

Caught up in all the excitement, Hashirama egged them on from the back seat. He chanted for the return of the pop music even as he cheered when Tobirama gained the upper hand for another moment. Which, Tobirama thought smugly, was quite the feat considering the fact that he was still driving and wasn’t able take his eyes off the road for more than a few seconds at a time. He fought harder against the smile threatening to creep up on his face when he caught sight of the wild grin which had reappeared on Madara’s, black hair hampering his vision as it hung in front of one eye and forcing him to tilt his head at a weird angle while he continued to fight for the right to sing.

As usual, it was Hashirama who accidentally ruined the fun with an observation which obviously didn’t seem all that significant to him, delivered like a superfluous afterthought. His cheering and laughing took a brief pause wherein he choked on the snack no one else had noticed him retrieving. Once he’d caught his breath he sighed happily.

“You guys just look so cute holding hands like that!”

Madara and Tobirama froze at the same time, their eyes flashing inwards to where their hands were locked in what was _obviously_ a very manly and aggressive battle. Both of them flushed red.

“Ugh, let go of me you freak of nature.” Tobirama snatched his hand back only to slam it in to the radio and cut off the music entirely. Beside him, Madara sunk down in to his seat and crossed both arms over his chest protectively, tilting his head in the opposite direction so that his wild black locks hid his face from view entirely. Hashirama grumbled disappointedly.

“But it looked so cute,” he huffed, also slumping back down and dragging up the hood of his sweater to settle in for a good pout.

Peeking in the rearview mirror to make sure that Hashirama had indeed subsided, Tobirama let out a quiet breath of relief. Hopefully the silence would last for at least a short while, during which he could make a good effort to search for that sanity he was just barely clinging on to. Maybe if he could think of a distraction to keep his companions occupied then he might actually make it to the end of the first day without having to kill either of them. Best case scenario.

Hashirama’s sulk lasted just long enough for Madara to gain control of his face and wriggle back up in to a proper sitting position. With his long legs folded in what was probably an uncomfortable manner just to be able to fit in the back seat, Hashirama eventually began to hum and rummage around through the cooler. Little noises of interest escaped him as he explored his options until he reappeared with a bag of gummy worms between his teeth, a bottle of juice in one hand, and a bag of peanuts in the other. The peanuts he silently handed up to Madara before falling upon the gummy worms like they’d done him a terrible wrong.

There wasn’t a whole lot to look at once they were on the highway, just a never ending parade of other cars whizzing by at stupidly fast speeds that would surely get them pulled over. Tobirama judged them all silently, staying barely above the limit himself. He was hardly going to drive like a maniac so far away from home but he didn’t drive like a grandpa either, no matter what Itama told him every time he drove the boy to his college classes.

Barely five minutes more had passed before Hashirama appeared to get bored of the silence and insisted that Madara play car games with him. They started with the license plate game, trying to find all the letters of the alphabet in order and seeing who could find the most letters. Madara won by virtue of being able to pay attention longer and not getting distracted by spotting dogs or cute kids inside the cars they were looking at. After that Hashirama whined until his two companions had both agreed to play I-Spy with him. Tobirama groused about being forced to play a game he would likely lose since he couldn’t pay too much attention to anything other than driving.

Several rounds in to I-Spy, having set the other two a challenge to find whatever yellow thing he was thinking of, Madara slowly reached one hand out in what he obviously thought was a sneaky attempt to reach for the radio again. Tobirama narrowed his eyes and watched, ready to smack at a moment’s notice should that hand reach for anything but a preset button. They faced off briefly, Madara’s fingers hovering over the station dial and Tobirama’s arm tensed for retaliation. Eventually Madara seemed to decide that it wasn’t worth embarrassing himself again and gracefully pressed one of the preset buttons with the air of someone who had definitely meant to do that all along.

Tobirama was not fooled in the slightest but he also refrained from saying anything about it.

“Oops.” With one casually spoken word, Hashirama suddenly had his brother’s undivided attention. Tobirama glared at his backseat passenger using the rearview mirror.

“What is ‘oops’?”

“Nothing! It was an accident!”

Tobirama checked the road, straightened his wheels, then returned to glaring. “ _What_ was an accident?”

“I maybe sort of kinda _might_ have, er, spilled some of my juice?”

“Anija!” Beside him, Madara winced at the loud outburst and wriggled a finger in his ear. “I just had this car cleaned a week ago for your dumb trip and you’ve already gotten it dirty again! What was my one rule for allowing you to have drinks back there?”

“Don’t spill them?”

“And what did you do?”

“I spilled one.” Hashirama nodded once decisively, smiling as though he expected a gold star for providing the correct answer.

With one eye twitching and both hands gripping the steering wheel prevent them from engaging in anything violent, Tobirama took a deep breath. “Clean it up,” he said through clenched teeth. “Now. There’s napkins in the pocket on the back of my seat.”

Looking suitably chastened, Hashirama dug out the napkins as directed and dabbed his spill off the leather seats. He even tried to lick one of them and make his own wet rag for better cleaning but mostly he just ended up with flakes of paper on his tongue and had to wash them down with more juice. Smacking his lips, he stuck out his tongue to check his reflection for any lingering bits of napkin. Then he capped his juice and pouted dramatically.

“You called my trip stupid,” he said.

“How rude, Tobirama,” Madara chimed in, grinning widely at the chance to poke fun at their driver. “You’re so mean to your older brother.”

“Right!? He’s so mean to me! This is my bachelor party, Tobi, why would you call it stupid?”

“Who takes a road trip for their bachelor party!?”

Chuckling, Madara waved his packet of peanuts through the air like a punctuation mark. “Well you didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.”

“Of course I did. Someone has to be around to keep the pair of you from getting lost and somehow ending up overseas or something else equally insane. Honestly you two should never be left alone without supervision.”

“Isn’t that kind of harsh?” Hashirama protested. Even without looking back at him Tobirama somehow managed to make his older brother cower just by sheer aura of annoyance.

“Last week I left you guys alone in the backyard for ten minutes and you set Madara’s pants on fire. When I left you were showing him skateboard tricks you learned in high school! How, Anija!? No, don’t try to actually explain. You already tried and I didn’t understand a word of it. Just…you two need watching, is my point!”

Madara puffed out his cheeks with indignation and swiveled in his seat to face his accuser. “It was only a little bit of fire! I didn’t even get any bad burns from it!”

“Stop proving my point for me, Uchiha.”

“Fuck you!”

“Not now, I’m busy.”

“Ew, guys, I don’t want to know!”

Lurching around, Madara swung his peanuts at Hashirama, thwapping him right on the forehead. “Obviously we’re not actually–! I would never–! Shut up and drink your fucking juice you cretin!”

The two of them began to bicker yet again as they had a habit of doing. Whenever Madara got flustered his usual method of defense what to start a fight and hope it distracted those around him from whatever he had done.  Rather than subject himself to the headache of actually listening Tobirama turned up the radio to drown them out as he switched lanes, heading for the next exit.

Interstate gave way to a small town surviving on its proximity to the highway. It took them less than ten minutes to drive through and then they were kicking up dust on a bumpy dirt road. Unbuckling his belt, Hashirama scooted over and buckled up again next to a window seat, rolling down the glass just to stick his head out. Ostensibly his intention was to take a deep breath of the fresh country air now that they were officially passed the limits of anything that could be called a ‘city’. What he actually did, however, was inhale a lungful of dust and road dirt, crumpling himself back inside the car to hack and cough in to a handful of sticky napkins.

“You are…such an idiot,” Madara said. Hashirama would have replied with an attempt at something snappy but he was too busy regurgitating his airways to do so. Eventually he was able to breathe again but instead of defending his own intelligence he whined softly.

“I have to pee.”

“No.” Tobirama rolled his eyes. “I have a rest stop scheduled in an hour; you can hold it until then.”

“But I really have to pee!”

“You could go in your juice bottle,” Madara suggested. Tobirama flashed him a look of utter disgust.

“Absolutely not! He’d get it all over the car!”

Hashirama tucked his hands between his legs and clamped them shut even as he giggled. “I’m not _Madara_ , I can pee straight even when there’s people around.” Madara squawked and began a tirade which Tobirama tried hard not to listen to. He very much did not want to know anything about Madara’s urination habits.

“Brother please! I have to go!” Hashirama was also ignoring his angry friend apparently.

“You can hold it for an hour! It’s not that far!”

“Noooo!”

Several bouts of yelling back and forth and one bottle-related threat later, Tobirama pulled the car over to the side of the road, his eyebrows pulled down so low they nearly merged with his eyelashes. As soon as they stopped Hashirama bolted for the closest tree and opened his trousers, entirely uncaring that he was still perfectly visible from the car. He was also audible from the car, as they discovered when he sighed loudly in relief.

Tobirama straightened in his seat when Hashirama returned and slid back in to his spot. Just as he reached for the gear shift, however, Madara opened his door and hurried towards the trees as well.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Tobirama hollered out the window.

“He’s right!” Madara called back. “I can’t piss when he’s looking over my shoulder!”

“You two and your god damn tiny bladders.” Dropping his head against the steering wheel, Tobirama nearly threw out his neck jolting up again when the impact set off his car horn. His only consolation was the startled shout from Madara, who had also not been expecting the noise and apparently tripped over a tree root.

He made sure to hassle Madara to walk faster as soon as he spotted the older man again, not quieting until everyone was in the car and he could start driving again. After everyone put their seatbelts back on, of course. Rule number one of travelling with Hashirama inside a vehicle was to check and make sure he was wearing his safety belt because if you didn’t check then he wouldn’t wear it, the idiot.

The road going forward brought them miles upon miles of nothing, dirt and trees as far as the eye could see. Above them the sky was studded with puffy clouds and it all looked so open and free that even Tobirama couldn’t help but to relax enough not to yell when Hashirama fell sideways and stuck his feet out the window. He laughed, even, when his brother jolted and cried out that a stone kicked up by one of the wheels had hit his foot.

“Pull it back in then,” he suggested.

“Never!” Hashirama straightened his knees as much as he could. “Foot freedom!”

“The breeze is nice,” Madara said, rolling down his own window and plucking at the collar of his shirt. A smirk crept its way across Tobirama’s face.

“Getting a little hot are you?”

Not at all picking up on the sarcasm, Madara nodded, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to let the wind pulled at his hair. “It’s a furnace in here and the weather isn’t helping. Doesn’t this box on wheels have an A/C?”

“Maybe if you’d had enough brain cells to wear anything other than a suit…”

“Hey! I look damn good in this suit!”

“Relevance? It’s a stupid thing to wear when you’re spending the entire day inside a car. Did you think we’d be serving a three course meal in here?”

Madara snorted. “Oh course not,” he replied haughtily. “I would have worn a bowtie.”

Although he really wanted to make some kind of snappy comeback to that, Tobirama was a little distracted by the image of Madara in a bowtie. For a moment he dithered until his mind changed the mental picture a little and in the next instant he was laughing at the thought of what stupid patterns someone with Madara’s awful taste might buy. Sure he went to work every day looking incredibly sharp in his plain, boring suits. But at home? Tobirama very distinctly remembered the work out sweats he’d seen once, even if Madara had managed to scuttle away before he could read the writing across that taut little bum.

“Don’t laugh! I’ll have you know bowties suit me very well!” Madara shoved at his shoulder with an irritated face which only deepened when a sideways Hashirama reached up to pat him on the arm.

“They really do,” Hashirama assured him. “I thought the one you wore to the Halloween party was smashing!”

“You idiot! That was a costume!”

Tobirama laughed harder.

Since there was no one else around for miles and likely wouldn’t be until they found the next rest stop, Tobirama didn’t panic too much about the car swerving the tiniest amount while he tried get his mirth under control. Hell, he could have driven straight down the wrong side of the road were he truly so inclined and no one would ever know – except his two companions; they would have never let him live it down.

“Oh come on, where is it?” Hashirama muttered to himself, rummaging through the same pocket from which he had taken his napkins.

“Where’s what?” Even as he asked Madara sounded incredibly disinterested.

“My camera! Tobi wouldn’t let me pack my camera because he said I’d take too many embarrassing pictures so I hid it in here when he drove us to work last week.”

“You _what_!?”

Madara snorted and patted their driver comfortingly on the top of his leg. “Don’t worry. I stole it back after he got out. This is officially a selfie-free car.”

“Nu-uh! I brought my cellphone!” With a quiet sound of triumph, Hashirama reached in to his pocket and waved the little device back and forth. Then he moaned in disappointment when it was snatched right out of his fingers and tossed in to the glove box.

“And now you’ve got nothing again.”

Pouting did not get him his phone back. Neither did whining, wheedling, or asking nicely. Somewhere around the point where he began to beg Tobirama and Madara struck up a loud and deliberately casual conversation about nothing at all, chatting over Hashirama’s voice and trying not to smirk too much as he pleaded with them to just listen for five minutes. 

“Guys, come on! Don’t be so mean!” Hashirama smacked his hand in to the back of Madara’s seat impetuously. “Listen to meeee! It’s _my_ road trip! Hey! Hey, listen! Guys!”

In a bid to force their attention on to himself, Hashirama tossed his empty juice bottle at Madara’s head, chortling when it bounced off of his friend’s temple and sailed out the open window. Madara screeched and reached back to smack him but he was still lying down with both feet out the window and it wasn’t that hard to flatten himself and keep out of reach, tongue stuck out tauntingly. Tobirama rolled his eyes and shook his head as it occurred to him once again to wonder why he had agreed to torture himself with babysitting duties.

And then the sirens went off behind them.

Hashirama whimpered when he scraped his heels trying to yank his feet back in, jolting in to a sitting position so he could crane his neck around like Madara was doing. Behind them a highway patrol car had appeared out of thin air, probably hiding behind the billboard they’d just passed, and it had its lights flashing as a signal for them to pull over. Tobirama did so with a locked jaw and vicious glare for his older brother.

“I blame you,” he hissed.

“Me!? You’re the driver!”

They had no time for extended bickering. As soon as both vehicles had come to a complete stop there was a patrolman stepping out of his car and swaggering towards them, set to a backdrop of red and blue. He looked like every B-movie cop cliché with his aviator sunglasses and crumbs dotting a crooked tie.

Despite his surety that those crumbs were from a recent donut binge, Tobirama rolled down his window as the officer approached and waved at Madara to grab his registration out of the glovebox. By the time he was staring at his own reflection in a pair of cheaply made sunglasses, he was already holding out both his papers and his license before the middle-aged man could ask for them, earning him a pair of furrowed brows. Apparently being over-prepared wasn’t considered polite in quite every situation.

“Is there a problem, officer?” he asked coolly.

“Do you know how fast you were going, son?”

“Yes.”

A beat of silence hung heavy between them in which Tobirama could practically sense the narrowed eyes boring in to him from behind those glasses. He knew exactly how fast he was going but he hadn’t been asked to reveal the number, only if he’d known it, and he wasn’t about to let the cop play this game with him. If he’d said no then the officer would be free to make up any answer he wanted. The two of them sized each other up until the silence would have made a lesser man feel uncomfortable, then when it became obvious that Tobirama was not the sort of person to be so easily intimidated the officer shifted his stance and cleared his throat.

“Littering is against the law, as I’m sure you’re all aware. I like to keep my patrol route nice and clean so I take exception to city boys like you coming out here and treating my roads with such disrespect. Now. Which one of you was it who saw fit to toss a bottle out the window like you expect your mama to come behind you and pick it up?”

Tobirama took a moment to respond, still a little puffed up with indignation from being referred to as a ‘boy’. As it turned out, that short pause was all it took to get out of a ticket. Before he could say a word Hashirama burst in to tears behind him and suddenly all attention was on the grown man blubbering in the back seat. Being a smart man, Tobirama knew an opportunity when he saw one.

“Well now look at what you’ve done,” he growled.

“I…what?” The officer blinked over the top of his glasses, obviously a little discomfited by the loud wails Hashirama was giving off.

“Look at him! We only just got him calmed down! Now you’ve set him off again with your rude questions.”

“Oh I – I didn’t know. Is he, uh, alright?”

Sighing with an obvious air of disappointment, Tobirama shook his finger at the man. “Next time you should speak in a more polite tone. Serve and protect, isn’t that your motto?”

“Certainly! I just didn’t expect…” He cut himself off to wince at a particularly loud shriek.

“Exactly. You never know what you should expect. So you should always be polite.”

“Of course, sir. My apologies. Will he be…okay?”

“We’ll have to calm him down again. I’m sure you understand officer but we’ll need to go find him a safe space.”

“Oh by all means!” Tipping his hat, the patrolman backed away rapidly. “Best of luck to you. Sure hope the poor fella is alright soon.”

Nose in the air and lips pinched in irritation, Tobirama sniffed as he threw the car in to gear and smoothly steered himself back on to the road. In the rearview mirror he could see the officer scratching his head, perplexed, but not moving to get back in his vehicle. As soon as he was out of sight Tobirama slumped and let out a puff of air.

“You can stop crying now,” he called over the noise. Hashirama’s jaw snapped shut immediately.

“I can’t believe that really worked.” Tilting his head to one side, he grinned. “Nice teamwork Brother!”

Head whipping back and forth as he tried to stare at them both at the same time, Madara gaped in awe. “What!?” he screeched.

“You didn’t think I was really crying, did you?”

“Of course I did! You always cry!”

“No I don’t!” Hashirama’s lower lip wobbled and his eyes teared up again immediately, causing Madara to groan and roll his own eyes, disbelief completely vindicated.

Tobirama stuck his nose in the air again, trying not to get himself involved in another squabbling session. As much as he liked to think himself about such petty interactions, he was also uncomfortably aware of how easily he fell in to arguing with either one of them. At least when it was Hashirama he had the excuse of sibling rivalry. When it was Madara he tended to fall back on less believable excuses.

Once Hashirama had finally calmed down and was no longer in danger of crying for real he immediately stuck his head in the cooler, coming back out with a bag of licorice, a soda, and an expression one would have expected to see on a naughty child rather than a man approaching his thirties.

“I have to pee again.”

“Are you serious, Anija? You just went!”

“But there was all that excitement and you _know_ I have a nervous bladder!”

“Hmph. I thought that was the Uchiha over here.”

“SHUT UP ABOUT MY BLADDER!”

Difficult as it was to choose between annoyed exasperation and smug amusement, Tobirama somehow managed to gracefully achieve both. He did insist that Hashirama hold his urges in until they had at least made it to the first scheduled rest stop.

Forty-five minutes later they were parked next to pump number three at quite possibly the sketchiest gas station any of them had ever seen. Hashirama bolted for the main building as soon as the car had stopped, leaving his door wide open. Madara shut it for him as he followed at a more human pace while Tobirama remained behind to top up the car with gas while they had the chance. In his mind, there was no sense in not doing it if they were here anyway.

It only took a little over a minute anyway since they’d set out with a mostly full tank already and they had only been driving for a few hours yet so far anyway; filling up here would keep them topped up until the next morning. Once he’d finished pumping he set the nozzle back in its slot and headed inside to pay with cash. As soon as he entered he spotted Hashirama trotting passed with three different keychains dangling from his fingers, a novelty mug hanging from his thumb, and several bags of candy clutched in his other hand. Without even pausing his stride Tobirama managed to relieve his brother of everything he was carrying.

“Hey! I wanted to buy those! See? They’ve got the name of the town written on them. Great souvenirs!”

“No.” Tobirama glared at his older sibling. “They’re not. Anija, this gas station _is_ the town. There’s nothing else here! Put these back.”

Hashirama did as he was told but he did so with an exaggerated sulk, lower lip jutting out as though his affected sadness could sway the typically unswayable Tobirama. As he headed towards the back wall to replace the mug he could be heard advising Madara to put his nick-knacks back as well but Tobirama pretended not to notice. He simply paid for the gas and waited for them both at the door, not trusting them to be left alone.

“We’re going to be on the road for two weeks,” he pointed out while they all trudged back to the car. “You’ll have lots of opportunities to spend your money on better and much more exciting souvenirs, trust me.”

“You said that two years ago on Christmas vacation and I came home without any souvenirs at all!”

“That’s because you needed a whole other suitcase for them and you forgot it at the airport.”

“Oh yeah…”

Madara snickered and rushed ahead to grab shotgun again, forcing Hashirama to once more fold his long legs in to the back seat and cuddle up to the snack cooler. By the time their wheels were back on the dirt road and kicking up dust he was already holding a bag of jellybeans.

“Do you ever stop eating?” Madara asked him.

“You’ve been his best friend since preschool. Have you ever seen him without candy in his pocket?” Tobirama turned his head to raise one eyebrow pointedly. Madara glanced back just to give Hashirama a look of mild disgust.

“How do you still have teeth?”

In the hopes that he could have even just another small window of peace, Tobirama switched on the radio before his brother could answer that question. After using the seek button to find a station he breathed a quick sigh of relief when both of his companions subsided quietly to watch the scenery roll by and hum along with the snatches of song they recognized. Madara eyed the presets but since they were out of range for them all anyway he appeared to decide that changing the station would be more trouble than it was worth, settling instead for singing along to the chorus when he could.

Fifteen minutes later Tobirama realized that, while the peace was just as relaxing as he’d been hoping for, it was also incredibly suspicious for Hashirama to stay quiet for so long. A quick glance in the mirror revealed why: his brother was fast asleep, top half draped over the cooler, a small puddle of drool gathering beside his open mouth and gradually making its way towards one limp hand. Gross.

Without Hashirama’s restraining presence, Tobirama worried in a half-serious sort of way that he and Madara would spontaneously erupt in to flames without ever having to say a word. ‘Explosive’ would have been a good way to describe the odd relationship between them over the last couple of decades.  In their earliest years they had been in constant competition for Hashirama’s attention, each incredibly jealous of the other any time they were not involved in something, and they could only barely be said to have grown out of such things. Nowadays they were much better at spending time in the same room yet their tendency to find every possible opportunity to mock each other had never quite gone away.

As Tobirama was shamelessly about to demonstrate, noticing the way Madara was tugging at the collar of his shirt.

“Should have taken your jacket off when you had the chance, Uchiha.” He smirked when the older man tossed him an irritated look.

“Quiet, Senju. I’m perfectly comfortable.”

“Uh-huh.” Tobirama nodded in mock agreement. “Comfortable. Sure. That’s why your neck is all damp with sweat now, because of the comfort. I see.”

“Oh shut up!”

With jerky movements Madara began to angrily pull at his suit jacket, struggling to get one of his arms out without removing his seat belt first. Tobirama watched him flail about with a great deal of amusement. It took several unsuccessful attempts before Madara thought to duck out of the chest piece of his seat belt so he could lean forward and give himself more room. Eventually he ended up with the deep blue material half over his head and completely stuck, unable to move his arms anymore.

“Got yourself in to a bit of a pickle there, have you?” Tobirama asked with an overly casual tone. Madara snarled.

“Help me you jerk!”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of enjoying the view like this. Can’t even see your face.”

“Fuck you!” Madara’s arms twitched uselessly, his fingers grasping at nothing with ineffectual rage, and he could clearly be heard muttering death threats underneath the cover of his poorly chosen outfit.

Eventually Tobirama took pity on the poor soul. Spending the rest of the day like that would be extremely uncomfortable and he might be a dick but he wasn’t quite enough of a dick to leave Madara to that fate. Mercy only went so far however and he was chuckling freely when he reached out with one hand to tug on the jacket blindly, helping to inch it forward bit by bit while keeping the wheel straight with his other hand.

Madara came free with a grunt and his head popped up with his hair even more wild than usual. It puffed out around his face and spilled down the front of his white shirt, already snarling around the buttons. Tobirama peeked over at him and then had to look away again immediately. Madara’s face was flushed with effort and he was still panting a little from his tiny episode of panic. He looked a lot like someone who’d been caught in flagrante rather than someone who had just gone two rounds wrestling with his own clothing.

“Hmph. Thanks,” he snarled reluctantly. Tobirama kept his eyes on the road and said nothing. “I could have gotten out by myself. It was just easier to make you do it.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

“I could have!”

“Are you sure you didn’t just want me to touch you? Gross, Uchiha. You need to work on your flirting skills.”

“I was not flirting with you!”

Trying not to laugh at the way Madara’s voice just shot up several octaves at once, Tobirama tutted gently like one would to rebuke a small child. “Lying isn’t very nice either, Madara,” he said. No further yelling answered him, which he found just as concerning as silence from Hashirama. He looked over to find Madara staring back with an unreadable expression. “What?”

“You called me by my name. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you do that.”

“Oh.” Tobirama cleared his throat and hoped to god that his ears weren’t turning red. “It’s just a name; it’s not a big deal.”

“Right. You’re right. Totally not a big deal.”

“Definitely.”

“Yup.”

For lack of anything else to say, Tobirama cleared his throat again. He cast about for some topic of conversation that would take the focus off the awkwardness currently suffocating the air between them but all he could think of was to ask whether Madara felt it was a big deal despite his protests otherwise. And somehow he didn’t think that would help dispel the unease.

It took a while but they did manage to start up a halting, tentative conversation about the stupidity of their respective coworkers, probably one of the most universally understood pains of introverts the world over. Neither of them were the type to enjoy cutesy stories about babies or gossip about who was breaking up with who. They whiled away more than an hour just trading horror stories about coworkers who had forced them to listen to them whine about marriage troubles or some such nonsense that they couldn’t have cared less about.

Dirt road gave way to concrete highway once more as they were talking and soon Tobirama realized they were approaching his second scheduled rest stop, only a couple of hours from their final destination. Hashirama was still snoozing away on top of the cooler and Tobirama debated whether to wake him up or risk his bladder during the final leg of the journey. When his own body reminded him that he hadn’t gone to the bathroom himself since early that morning the decision was made; also when Madara squirmed not-so-subtly in his seat as the rest stop came in to view. There was no point in arguing with all three of their bladders.

The second rest stop of the day played out quite similarly to the first with one exception: rather than gassing up Tobirama hopped out of the car while Madara was waking Hashirama up and hurried inside to be the first one in the bathroom. When he came back out Hashirama had another armful of terrible keychains and novelty t-shirts, which he promptly relieved his brother of and ignored the pouting which ensued.

Now that Hashirama was awake, once they set back out on the road the conversation moved away from work complaints and more towards the plans they had for the next few days. As the groom whose wedding they were celebrating and the one who had originally come up with the idea for this trip in the first place, he’d had tons of ideas for places he wanted to go. Like a good brother Tobirama had included most of them when he planned everything out. But only most. Some of them were too far out of the way to make it there and back before they all had to return to work while others were just a bit too ridiculous for either himself or Madara to be interested in going there.

“For the last time, Anija, it’s not on the way and we are not going!”

“But its super cool and I wanna see it!”

Madara looked up from attempting to unbutton his cuffs so he could roll up his sleeves. “See what?”

“Ugh. He wants to go see the world’s biggest ball of twine.” Tobirama looked over at the man sitting beside him so they could share a look of disdain.

“Seriously, Hashi? The world’s biggest ball of twine?”

“What?” Hashirama shrugged. “I thought it would be cool to give it a hug. Do you think all that twine would be really scratchy? Like hugging a big ball of hay?”

Instead of answering Madara dropped his face in to one palm and quite loudly changed the subject, for which Tobirama was grateful.

Just over two hours later they were pulling in to a reasonably priced motel with great online reviews and Hashirama was bouncing up and down in his seat, another empty juice bottle clutched in his hand and the other hovering over the door handle with anticipation. The second Tobirama had the car in park Hashirama threw his door open and scrambled outside with a smile even brighter than the setting sun. He set both hands on his hips, drew a deep breath of small town air, and let it all rush back out in a satisfied smile.

“This place is great!” he declared. Tobirama popped the trunk and gave his sibling a light shove on the way to retrieve his bag, the smallest of the three.

“Shouldn’t you take a look inside before you make any declarations like that? Who knows? Maybe all the reviews were fake and the inside is a shithole. In which case, by the way, we’re leaving and finding somewhere else to stay. I don’t sleep on dirty mattresses.”

“I second that,” Madara grumbled as he reached in for his own suitcase.

Hashirama ignored them both, reaching in to the trunk to haul out his massive duffel bag before sprinting enthusiastically for the doors leading to the front foyer. Madara and Tobirama followed him at a pleasant walk. Luckily the inside looked well-kept and the receptionist behind the desk didn’t give off any weird vibes. She checked them in without any problems, two rooms as Tobirama had requested, and sent them off with honest-sounding wishes for a good night.

Since he’d been the one to book all the accommodations – the one to make all the plans, really – Tobirama got the honor of having a room to himself for the night, leaving Madara to sleep on the second bed in Hashirama’s room, doomed to listen to him snoring all night long. He didn’t even feel bad about it. Growing up in the same household as Hashirama meant he had already served his time listening to those awful noises. At times he pitied Mito for agreeing to spend the rest of her days lying next to Hashirama as he snored, but then he would remember that she typically slept with earplugs in anyway. Smart woman.

Dinner consisted of take-out, which Tobirama wasn’t too pleased about. His plans called for them to visit a local restaurant he’d found a menu for online and he’d been looking forward to trying the local pasta dishes. Instead he got stuck with greasy chicken and over-salted fries which he ate propped up in Hashirama’s bed because if he was going to be forced to eat in the motel then he certainly wasn’t going to leave any crumbs in his own blankets.

While they ate the three of them watched a couple movies, Hashirama snuggling himself up against Tobirama’s side and chattering away over top of all the dialogue. Tobirama let him, long used to ignoring his drivel and turning his own ears to the television instead, and it took until the second movie was reaching the final climax before he realized that Hashirama had fallen asleep against his shoulder. With a grimace he also noticed that his brother had started drooling on his shirt. It took a few minutes to wriggle out from underneath him but thankfully Tobirama managed to do so without waking him.

Madara eyed him inscrutably as he made his way to the door.

“Going to bed?”

“Soon,” he admitted. “We’re heading out right after breakfast so get some rest…Madara.”

Tobirama hurried out the door without checking to see if Madara reacted to his name in the same manner as he had before. With the swipe of a card he let himself in to his own room just across the hall, leaning against the door as soon as it clicked shut and staring at nothing with eyes just slightly wider than usual.

Ever since the day puberty had first caught him in its hormonal clutches Tobirama had been constantly confused by the rules and boundaries of what other people might consider flirting. He’d teased Madara about it earlier but the truth was that he had even less idea what he was doing himself. Was this flirting? Was it obvious? Or at least recognizable? Generally speaking his attempts at flirting tended to come off as aggression so it was little wonder that his relationships were few and far between.

He’d just barely managed to push himself away from the door when a knock from the other side nearly startled him out of his skin. Opening it revealed Madara with a light flush on his cheeks and downcast eyes, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“I’d ask if you forgot something but it was me who left,” Tobirama mumbled, more to himself than to his guest. Madara ducked his head even lower.

“This is stupid,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t be doing this now; we’re gonna be stuck together for the next two weeks.”

“Not if I leave you behind somewhere,” Tobirama pointed out before mentally kicking himself in the head. “Did you need something you couldn’t say before?”

“Can I…come in?”

A little suspicious – and a lot worried – Tobirama stepped back to let the man enter, closing the door once more behind him. Madara still wasn’t looking at him, choosing instead to look everywhere possible in the room _but_ him, and it would have been sort of cute in a dorky way if it hadn’t been so confusing. He was fairly sure he’d never seen Madara so hesitant about anything before. The silence stretched for a long pause until finally Madara reached up to scratch at his cheek and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“I think we should spend more time together,” he spat out all in one big rush. Tobirama blinked.

“We’re on a road trip. We’re going to do nothing _but_ spend time together provided neither of you get lost along the way.”

“That isn’t what I meant!” Finally Madara looked up at him but it was with a frustrated frown. Tobirama looked back helplessly, unsure of what it was he was trying to get at.

“Just say what you mean then.”

Scrunching up his nose, Madara flushed a little deeper. “I mean I want to…get to know you better.”

“You’ve known me since I was first learning how to speak. How much better could you possibly know me?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Madara lurched forward to reach out and drag Tobirama to him, lifting up on to his toes to crash their mouths together. Although he knew it was considered polite to close one’s eyes when kissing, Tobirama couldn’t make himself do anything but stand completely still with his eyes wide open, staring. He couldn’t even muster the will to kiss back he was so shocked. Madara, evidently, got the wrong impression from that.

When ten full seconds went by without any sort of positive response to his kiss, Madara pulled away with a completely mortified expression on his face, slightly hidden behind a massive blush. A pitiful little squeak escaped him and he released Tobirama as though burned, reeling back almost drunkenly. Then his hands couldn’t seem to decide if they wanted to clasp behind his back or hang by his sides and so they ended up swinging wildly about until he suddenly lurched towards the door.

“This never happened!” he snarled. “We don’t _ever_ talk about this!” Tobirama shook himself back to life just as Madara’s hand landed on the doorknob, spinning around and jumping after him.

“Wait!”

With obvious reluctance Madara paused and turned back – only to gasp in surprise when Tobirama roughly pressed him back against the door and leaned down to press their lips together again, actually managing to participate this time. Both of them groaned at the same time and Tobirama shivered under the fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him down and twisting to find a better angle for the kiss. Madara tasted like fried chicken and cheap soda; it should have tasted disgusting yet still Tobirama couldn’t seem to get enough, flicking his tongue out to drag it against Madara’s and chasing whatever flavor he found there.

Even as it happened he could barely wrap his head around it all. With how terrible he was at showing affection in any form he’d been fairly sure Madara would never pick up on whatever confusing signals he was trying to send out. It would take a long time before he would admit to it, but he was incredibly grateful that Madara had found the courage to take a chance on this first.

Just as he gathered his own courage and his hands began to wander they both jumped when someone knocked on the door again. Madara and Tobirama pulled apart to stare at each other briefly, wordlessly asking each other if they had any idea who the fuck was at the door if both of them were in here already. Snarling in frustration, Madara pushed Tobirama off of himself and stepped away as well until he had enough room to wrench the door open, scowling fiercely at whoever dared to interrupt this long-awaited moment.

Hashirama stared back.

“Oh. There you are.”

“What are you doing here?” Madara demanded harshly. Hashirama pouted back at him.

“I guess I dozed off. When I woke up both of you were gone so I came to see if Tobi was here and ask if he knew where you were. Did you guys come over here so that I could sleep? Aww! That’s so thoughtful of you both!”

“Uh…right. Yes.” Tobirama swallowed thickly and looked away. “That is exactly what we were doing.”

A grunt of pain escaped him when Madara reached back and kicked him in the ankle but Tobirama didn’t fault him all that much. He was well aware how excruciatingly obvious he was when he felt awkward about these kinds of situations. Enough so that even Hashirama was able to pick up on it. Tobirama’s heart thudded anxiously as he watched his brother narrowed both eyes.

“Something’s going on, isn’t it?”

“No! Nothing!” Madara forced his friend to turn around by the shoulders and started pushing him back across the hallway. “There’s nothing going on here so we should go to bed now and not talk about anything because there is nothing to talk about. Clearly.”

Madara definitely shared his problem about being obvious.

“I’ll figure it out even if you two don’t tell me! Don’t think I won’t!” Hashirama wriggled his way out of Madara’s hold just to point a menacing finger back and forth between the two of them. Ever so slowly he backed away, keeping his finger trained on the two of them the whole time, and Tobirama sighed.

His eyes slid over to Madara to find the older man watching him as well. For a moment their gazes held, the heat building again almost immediately, until Hashirama began to natter from inside his room across the hall about all the interrogation techniques he could use on them tomorrow once they were trapped in the car with him. As soon as the spell was broken Madara turned away and hurried inside as well, letting the door swing shut on its own.

Suddenly Tobirama was alone again and it hadn’t even been ten minutes since he’d left for his own room in the first place. It felt like the walls were slowly spinning around him as he made his way towards the bed with jerky steps and collapsed face down. The load groan he released was immediately muffled by the flattened pillows he’d fallen in to and the threadbare coverlet underneath but there was no one to hear his sounds of despair anyway.

What the hell had he gotten himself in to? Finding any time alone with Madara would be hell from now on and being so close yet so far away was sure to drive him mad before a full day had passed.

Actually Hashirama stood a good chance of driving him mad in half that time. Tobirama was uncomfortably familiar with how aggravating his brother could be when he was trying to ferret out any secrets he’d caught wind of. His near future would undoubtedly be filled with pointed questions when he ‘least expected it’, suspicious looks when engaging in the most innocuous of activities, and whining – lots of whining. Hashirama’s tactics weren’t exactly subtle but they were effective, if only through sheer level of annoyance.

Lifting his head to prop his chin on the pillows, Tobirama closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Madara had _kissed him_. Certainly that was worth any amount of whatever Hashirama chose to throw at them. Or maybe not, he mused half-heartedly. After all, Madara could be just as annoying when he set his mind to it. Tobirama let his mind drift back over the madness he had lived through just since this morning, reliving every sordid minute of it.

And this was only day one. The next two weeks were going to be a living _hell_.


End file.
